


Not For Me

by Pyreite



Series: To Fall and Rise [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Exile, F/M, Future Fic, Melancholy, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Post-Trespasser DLC, Self-Exile, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyreite/pseuds/Pyreite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Post DA:I] Five hundred years in the future, Ellana Lavellan still hasn't forgiven Solas for tearing the Veil open.  She lives in self-exile from the newly rebuilt capital city of Elvhenan, New Arlathan, with only a few friends for company.</p><p>Written after the Trespasser Epilogue DLC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not For Me

Every year, in the waning of autumn, when the leaves turned from green to gold. The messenger came bearing gifts and news from her kin. Every year Ellana welcomed him to her humble home nestled in the woods famed for its wild Halla. Every winter he stayed, regaling her with tales of woe and splendour, whilst snow drowned the land in a sea of white. Every spring when the ice melted and the woodland streams were free and flowing, he gave her the same message.

 

“Solas wants to see you”.

 

Ellana idly ran a halla-horn comb through her hair, gently teasing out wet tangles. She was fresh from the water, her skin warm and tingling from a brisk bath. She preferred the cold mountain spring to the steaming pools in the city. The bathhouses were wondrous with their gilded golden walls, floating statues, and spirit attendants. Ellana admired her people's resolve, but she did not approve of their extravagance.

 

She hadn't the stomach to walk New Arlathan's silvered streets. Beautiful as it was, the city renowned for its ivory towers, was inhabited by elves alone. Ellana had seen only one face without pointed ears in five centuries. She would gladly have given up the gift of magic and longevity to see Cullen, Cassandra, and even secretive Leliana again. The Dread Wolf's determination to restore the elves to their rightful place had come at too high a cost.

 

“I have nothing to say to him”, said Ellana.

 

She ignored the messenger's regretful sigh. He was just being a good friend, acting as a go-between, in case she ever changed her mind. The past five hundred years, since the tearing of the Veil, had neither softened her anger nor made her forget the blood-price paid. The elves were free, lost Arlathan restored, and the world was whole again. Ellana should have been happy, but she was not.

 

“He still loves you”, declared her guest.

 

Ellana idly flicked water from her fingertips. “Solas loves his city's silver streets and perfumed towers far more than he ever loved me”, she retorted. They had played this game countless times before. The circle never-ending. The argument never ceasing.

 

“I was only ever a convenient distraction”, insisted Ellana.

 

The lie was better than the truth.

 

It was easier to believe that Fen'Harel did not have a heart.

 

Ellana rolled her eyes when the comb was plucked from her fingers. Knees bent and long legs folded. She willingly submitted herself into the care of another when leather-clad thighs girdled her waist. Ellana patted the bony knee pressing into the cleft of her hip. She welcomed his affection, the intimacy coming easily, after they'd spent five hundred winters together.

 

“You know that's not true”.

 

Ellana scowled. He could read her like an open book. “It doesn't matter!”, she hissed. “He made his choice and I've made mine!” She winced when the comb scraped over her scalp, the teeth digging in just enough to cause pain without breaking the skin.

 

Her friend was a little heavy-handed.

 

“You're being unfair!”

 

Ellana's lip curled indignantly. “I am not!” She squealed when the comb caught in a tangle. Several firm tugs made her squirm. He was pulling too hard.

 

“ _OW!_ ” cried Ellana. “Stop it or you'll tear my hair out!”

 

“I will”, said her tormentor. “If you admit you're wrong”.

 

Ellana pouted unhappily. “Do I have too?”

 

Another sharp tug nearly changed her mind.

 

“ _OW_!”

 

“I'd like it if you did”, her friend said diplomatically.

 

Ellana considered his request. An admission meant accepting that she held the Dread Wolf's heart. The very idea sickened her. Ellana shook her head, the comb sliding free. Her hair, warm and slick, cascaded down her back in a glistening waterfall.

 

She was still beautiful. Her face fair and bright, unlined by age or weariness.

 

A gift from Fen'Harel.

 

Immortality coupled with eternal youth.

 

The grief came unbidden, though Ellana didn't cry. She had wept an ocean of tears the day Thedas had changed forever. Countless thousands had died. Humans, elves, dwarves, and kossith. The cost, Ellana still believed, had been outrageous.

 

“I can't forgive him”, she said coldly.

 

The well of her grief had long run dry.

 

“Solas destroyed Thedas when he tore down the Veil”.

 

Her friend, as ever, was more understanding.

 

“He did it for you”.

 

“Solas did it for himself”, corrected Ellana. “So he wouldn't feel like he was lost outside of place and time”. She glanced over her shoulder at the person who had been a friend and companion through the long and lonely years. “I'm like that now”, she told the spirit with an ashen face, scraggly blonde hair, and large sad blue eyes. “A stubborn dalish elf clinging to the memory of the past because I can't bear to live in his glorious future”.

 

“But you could, Ellana”, urged Cole. “I know you still care for him”. He nodded eagerly, the corners of his mouth turning upward into a hopeful smile. “It's not love, but it's close enough, buried deep like a seed in dry soil”, reasoned Cole. “If you met him, spoke to him, maybe stayed a night in his home as a guest. You could water that dry little seed enough for a root to sprout”.

 

He was a Spirit of Compassion, ever altruistic in his dealings with those that needed him most.

 

Ellana admired his tenacity, though she pitied him too. For Cole the world was a perfect circle without points or edges. For Ellana there were lines and boundaries. Loving Fen'Harel had blurred too many. Poor Cole, being a spirit, could not understand why she kept herself apart from the one who held her heart.

 

“I can't”, Ellana told him. “I'm sorry”.

 

Cole's smile withered. His mouth turned down unhappily. The light in his eyes dimmed like a guttering candle flame. His brows furrowed. He stared at her imploringly.

 

“Please!”

 

Ellana turned towards him, a slender hand rising to cup his pale cheek. He sighed into her touch, breath hitching, though he could not cry. His misery, however, was palpable just the same. Ellana recognised despair when she saw it. Her's was a hurt that Cole could not heal.

 

“If I forgave him”, she said. “You would have one less person to help”.

 

“But you would be happy!” argued Cole.

 

Ellana slowly shook her head. “No”, she told him. “I would be miserable without my dearest friend to keep me company during the long and lonely winter”. She smiled when Cole finally gave-in. He had grown more stubborn too, over the past five hundred years.

 

“You always say that”, grumbled Cole. “Every year it's the same excuse”.

 

Ellana snorted as she turned away. She plucked the abandoned comb out of the grass. She handed it back to him. “Shush and start combing. One hundred strokes each side”, she demanded. Ellana smiled when Cole resumed guiding the comb through her hair.

 

“You're still bossy”, he complained bitterly. “Always telling me what to do”.

 

Ellana laughed. “It's because I love you, Cole”.

 

The gentle tug and pull was a soothing ritual, performed each morning, until the sun shone high over the treetops. Today was Cole's last with her until the Halla started calving. Ellana was loathe to see him return to New Arlathan, but he had others in the city that needed him too. It wasn't right for her to keep him all to herself. Even in the heart of paradise, some elven souls still struggled with fear and grief.

 

Cole sighed. “You love me, but not Solas, because I'm safe and he's not”.

 

Ellana looked beyond her hut to the Eluvian standing in the middle of a stone circle. Sunlight rippled across its glassy surface, setting the scene it reflected aflame. Ellana glimpsed pristine white walls, flat, high, and made from symmetrical bricks. Magic not a chisel or hammer had shaped that stone into perfect rectangles. Ellana recognised Solas's handiwork from the even distribution of mortar to the pleasingly pale colour of the stone.

 

He was still a perfectionist.

 

“You're right”, admitted Ellana. “You are far safer to love than the treacherous Dread Wolf”. Her eyes narrowed when a person stepped into the arc of the Eluvian. He was tall, slender like a sapling, and wore the snug armour of the Elvhen like a second-skin. A hood covered his head, though she saw his fair face, decorated with the vallaslin of Mythal.

 

Ellana watched him step through the Eluvian. It's silvered surface rippled like water. Her spring guest had arrived on time. The Eluvian, providing easy passage from her woodland home to the capital, certainly ensured she never lacked for visitors. Ellana smiled warmly when her guest walked briskly down the path of cobbled stones.

 

She waved to him in greeting.

 

He was too old fashioned to respond in kind.

 

“He's glad to be here”, said Cole. “It's quieter in your forest than in the city”.

 

Ellana laughed. “Of course it is. There's less people and less trouble. Abelas knows it and so do I”.

 

“True”, agreed Cole. “But it must be terribly lonely”.

 

“Sometimes”, said Ellana. “But with friends like you and Abelas I can manage just fine”.


End file.
